Be Yourself
by ephr
Summary: AU: Nice is going into his senior year of high school with friends like Murasaki and Hajime. Art joins as a new teacher. Some philosophical(?) exploration. Art/Nice kinda happens, sorry. This story will attempt to push boundaries, if you dig the humor. Will be long. Warning for mature parts. Feedback always appreciated.
1. Pt I

**Note: I am not a real fanfic writer. I hope my humor isn't too obscure. There is authorial sarcasm.**

* * *

On a day that the sun was thick, rolling over the earth and falling before me in filtered strips across my desk, I was tormented by its heavy warmth as I faced a chalk board and an old man I didn't understand. This was summer school, the last place I hoped to find myself during my break. They didn't like my grades last semester, ok, but did they think any of this would help? My grades have always proudly dipped and raised in accordance with my fancy. And this snoozefest was supposed to bring them up?

I guess I had three options: one, to repeat my second year; two, drop out, work a job; three, to pass this summer course through persuasion (e.g. be the teachers pet, slip them some cash(?), slick talk: _"I promise I'll do my absolute best next year, so can we just get through the basic ideas and then go home?"_ or _"Sir, you're just too handsome to be spending your summer here with only me! Don't you have a lover you want to spend time with? I won't say a word if we both go home now..."_ or even _"Wow, sir, you're incredibly intelligent. I aspire to reach the heights of wisdom which you have obviously mastered. But to do that, I need to do my best in my last year! How about you just give me a few cheat sheets, test me, and then I'll be off to study for the upcoming year."_). Those were decidedly my only options, since sitting here, by myself, in the heat (we were in one of the few old classrooms without AC), without sun, and with a teacher I couldn't even pay attention to by will, was not exactly going to allow for the "tough it out" method. I stood up. The old man actually noticed and turned to me.

"Yes, Nice?"

"Could I visit the lavatory, sir?"

"I did tell you to go during your last break. Well, I understand, though. We can't always control when nature calls," he finished by cracking a smile of yellow teeth.

"Thank you."

I sped out of there with the faint feeling that I wasn't planning to return, but I figured that wouldn't work out. As I walked toward the nearest bathroom, I observed the school in its most dignified state. The halls were soaked in the glow of the summer sun, the floors shined in relief of all the usual traffic, and silence was all to be heard across the building. Even the main office worked with quiet diligence. When I signed in, no one spoke a word.

(murmuring)

I heard a voice as I turned a corner and opened the bathroom door.

"...oh yes... quite well actually... are you sure about that?"

_There's someone on the phone in a toilet stall?_ As I entered a stall of my own and did my business I heard "I have to go now. Thank you for calling. I look forward to seeing you." _Really man? Talking that politely in a bathroom stall?_ I stepped out and started washing my hands, glancing to the side to see a very pale, light-haired guy about my height. He was young, but not a student? I didn't recognize him as a classmate or a teacher.

"Hello," I greeted as he stepped up to wash his hands. "What's your name? I haven't seen you at this school before."

He just looked at me for a second while drying his hands. Not until he disposed of his paper towel did he turn to me and smile. "I am a new teacher here starting this year. Art Hatfield, pleased to meet you." He extended his hand and asked, "And what is your name?"

"Oh! I didn't think I would be speaking to a teacher when I saw you. I'm Nice, a senior this year," I replied, only slightly upset that I was now shaking hands with a teacher in the bathroom. "Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"

"You're not a senior yet," came the voice of my summer school teacher, Mr. Tamahiro or something like that. He walked in with a strained expression and holding a phone to his ear. "Yes. I'll figure something out. Tell my wife I'm coming."

"Mr. Tamashiro-" Mr. Art was interrupted.

"Mr. Hatfield, are you here for the summer session?" Mr. Tamashiro* hurriedly inquired, throwing a glance at me as though I had done something wrong. "Can you take care of this student for the rest of the day?"

"Do you want me to teach a class?"

"If you can, yes. And Nice is the only student in summer school for this curriculum. The current lesson book is on my desk, along with a binder of notes, handouts, tests ...and Nice can tell you the rest," The old man patted Mr. Art on the shoulder and then confessed, "My wife has been in the hospital recently for minor issues, but apparently her condition has greatly deteriorated. I have to be there with her. Please."

Mr. Art Hatfield stood up very straight after hearing this, appearing moved possibly by either Mr. Tamashiro's circumstances or his passionate speech, and reassured him, "I've got it from here. You two have my blessings!"

Immediately Mr. Tamashiro bolted for the door yelling statements of gratitude and apology. I imagined I could make out the clunking of his rushed steps on the stairs until he reached the first floor. Mr. Art now turned to me with an air of seriousness as he said, "Please follow me." I did, and he led me to his office and collected some things before instructing me to show him the way to my designated classroom.

"Too bad, it's so cool down here," I complained. "And the room upstairs isn't even air conditioned."

"You have to be here during the summer, ha?" he smiled, almost condescendingly. "How did you find yourself in summer school?"

"I guess I got distracted," I sighed. "And how did you end up a teacher?" I looked him up and down carelessly. "You're not student teaching or something? Are you full time?"

"I am full time." He tilted his head and locked eyes with me, adding, "And I promise my age won't degrade your learning experience."

His voice was determined. This guy was either overly sincere or extremely tense. And then we entered the melting heat.

"Is there a fan in here we can use?" There was a hint of distress in Mr. Art's question.

"Not in here, maybe in the supply closet down the hall." The nut was wearing long sleeves! I sat expectantly atop a desk while he was over there popping his buttons, loosening his tie, rolling his sleeves, etc. "I'll go look for one," I announced as I hopped off the desk.

He instantly rose to assist me. We found a fan. I guess it helped. I sat for a long moment in silence as he poured over the material he was about to teach.

"Alright," he finally announced. "So you were looking at..."

* * *

There were a daunting two more hours left of class at that point, yet by the time he started getting deep into the lesson, I forgot all about my impatience. I listened carefully to the information he delivered unexpectedly throughout his engaging discourse. He was smart. I appreciated it. I wanted him to be my summer school instructor.

"What do you teach?" I asked once the lesson concluded.

Pulling hair behind his ear, Mr. Art looked up in surprise. "I can teach quite a few subjects, actually. And I was hired for math."

"Excellent," I put my hands together as I spoke, crossing the room toward him. "You're amazing. It's like you can really teach! You're the one I should be spending time with this summer... I think... if the school wants me to pass."

"Kfff-"

_I think my last sentence made Art laugh? I'm funny!_

Art looked at me sideways in amusement before closing his eyes to gain his composure. He sounded serious now, "So, you find it hard to learn unless the teaching... meets a certain standard?"

"In this place? There are flies in here louder than Mr. Tamashiro. And they're actually engaging because as their speed changes their pitch does too. I think his speech is monotone!"

"I doubt there's anything you could learn from me that you can't learn from him as well," Art replied so softly I nearly missed what he said. He rose, having gathered his belongings, and added more loudly, "I'm sure you're very bright yourself. You can make it. ...You are dismissed now. Have a good summer evening, Nice."

"I am." _(I'm very bright, actually.)_ I went after him. "And where are you going, Art?"

"Ah, I'm still here. I don't get off for another hour. And you may address me as Mr. Hatfield."

"Oh?" I thought for a second about what I could do with my freedom for the day while smiling as politely as possible. "Can I see what you're doing?"

"For work?" He shook his head shortly. "It's all paperwork. I recommend you do something more enriching."

I followed him to his desk and confirmed that it was all indeed paperwork he was conducting. After five minutes I asked, " Do you live around here, or is the city as new as the job?"

(pluck, pluck, pluck, pluck, staple)

"You're so curious," He paused what he was doing and turned his chair to look straight at me."If you weren't a student I might be worried you... well even as a student that... worrisome..." his utterance grew indiscernible as he turned back to his work.

"Do you want to do something with me after this?" I might have crossed my fingers. "I can show you around if you are unfamiliar with this area."

Art coughed, appearing somehow concerned or displeased, focusing his attention on the papers before him. There he continued for the rest of the hour while I sat nearby texting Hajime. I informed her of the cool guy I had just met and of my plans to possibly ace summer school. After a while I think we were just texting in TV and videogame references. I was relieved when, at long last, Art rose before a neatly stacked pile of papers and distributed them into their designated folders and desk drawers. He subsequently donned his bag and headed for the door.

Again he smiled, prodding, "Isn't it time you should be getting home?"

"I don't have a curfew, if that's what your asking," I asserted in disapproval. _Is he looking down on me?_

"I am new to this area, but navigation is no big feat. I appreciate your offer, but I have something planned soon." He departed swiftly, but I caught up with him anyway.

"Well what do your plans involve?" I pressed on. "Can we talk on the way there?"

"We can if you want." Art's eyebrows were raised unenthusiastically as he released a silent sigh. I did see that my intrusion was causing him some sort of discomfort, but I didn't exactly have a reason to feel bad about it.

"Do you think Mr. Tamashiro will take leave? You know, to be by his wife's side?" My eyes shifted expectantly in Art's direction. "If he does, I guess they'll find someone else to take his place for my class, huh?"

"If her condition doesn't stabilize I'm sure he'll be with her until the end," Art's tone was strained. _I figured._ "There are plenty of teachers who can teach you, though. You want a new teacher right? You'll see who you get tomorrow."

We were approaching the gate to one of the school's pools. I watched as Art lifted a ring of keys to unlock it.

"Are you going in there?" I watched him expectantly as he entered and set down his bag.

"I'm allowed to swim here now," his answer was cold.

"Right, so you just like to come here by yourself and swim?"

"Excuse me." He brushed past me and escaped into the pool house, leaving me to answer my own questions.

Situating myself by the edge of the pool, I dipped a hand in to test the temperature. It felt incredibly warm. On most summer days it would be warm like this. This pool was a find! Apparently since it was smaller and designated for the use of teachers or some such, nobody knew about it, until now. If Art was a frequent visitor, maybe he would allow a student or two to enter under his supervision? With this in mind, I trotted in Art's direction. Inside the pool house I heard running water from the bathroom, so I waited outside until approaching footsteps brought him into view. He jumped slightly upon noticing me, and I was just as surprised by the youth exuding from his bright, exposed skin.

I must have stared too long because he promptly asked "What?" as he brandished a towel before his chest.

"Am I allowed to swim if you're here?" I tilted my head as I inquired, craving the warmth of the water in the back of my mind.

"You don't have a swimsuit. And there are none here-"

"Regardless, can I swim?" I spoke enthusiastically as to express my earnest intentions.

"This time, I suppose." His voice was reluctant but his face reflected some different emotion. "But I'm not yet acquainted with the school's policy so I'd appreciate if you don't get me in trouble."

As I stepped beneath the weight of the sun, I undressed to my briefs and hung my feet from the side of the pool. Across the water, Art stood beside the diving board stretching his lithe body. I realized how beautiful it was to see him as he positioned himself and dove into the pool. For someone like him to be a teacher, it was no shock that student-teacher scandals have occurred throughout history. Half the battle is lost when a teacher is hopelessly attractive. When the other half relies on the judgement of said young teacher, not to judge Art, but, people often identify better with those in their age group. When I looked at him, I felt that Art was much more of me than he was of his employers. He burst from the water with such exuberance. Then he witnessed me in my underwear and grew very still.

"You're not swimming in your underwear are you?" _Fuck yeah I am._

I hopped into the water to prove my point and swam over to join him. "It feels so good!" I hummed. "Completely worth it."

"It is..." He immersed himself further. "Water is always relaxing, especially after a long day." He was sighing and swirling his limbs in the water and I floated around for a while just listening to the sound of his movements in the water.

* * *

"Art?" I was standing on the diving board as I demanded his attention, stretching my arms and silently taking pride in my body.

His eyes met mine, but then he averted his gaze without reply. I jumped in. Emerging for air, I met more silence and so proceeded with my inquiry.

"Why did you choose to teach?" I drifted nearer as I spoke.

"That's..." He spun in the water and stopped to face me. "Because I am adequate for the job as well as motivated to help others learn. And I think teacher's have vital jobs. To be a good teacher is to help create a better world."

I wasn't prepared for that._ Of course he would describe his cause ethically_. I kept a straight face and considered whether or not to mention my earlier opinion on his being a teacher. "And what would you do if your teaching yielded less positive results?" I grew closer and by the time we were inches apart I whispered by his ear, "What if you were to seduce a student?"

Art's violet eyes were wide as he digested my words and he shifted away from me as if in repulsion. "I would never do that," he retorted. "What are you trying to say?"

"No, no. I'm not suggesting anything about your intentions. I am simply observing your disposition." The heat in his face betrayed him. "You're going to be popular with the ladies of this school. And probably the guys, too."

"Well it's not my concern if it's one-sided. You don't have to warn me- I think I'll be able to teach without having inappropriate contact with my students." His jaw was tight but as he spoke his voice grew calmer.

"I think you're overlooking how strong people's feelings can really get." I wrapped my arms around his neck and assumed my most desperate expression, breathing onto his mouth, "'Sensei, I think I'm completely and undeniably in love with you! I'd do anything, so please...'" I looked up at him, and I was only mildly surprised that his face had assumed such a shade of red. "Things like that, are you prepared to face them?"

"I'm sorry, but I love someone else," he replied unexpectedly, pressing his hand hard against my chest to put distance between us. "Isn't that the best way to handle confessions?"

I stared at him in thought for a long moment. It was true that in the first few seconds I was processing his words, but after assessing his statement, I couldn't help but look at him harder. I wondered if he believed a word he was saying. He kept giving these fast, certain, idealistic answers that were making me question my own reason for asking them in the first place. _Was this to be the rest of my life?_

And then it struck me! I was still staring directly into his eyes. He was a teacher! There was a water droplet at the tip of his nose. He was talking down to me!? His lips parted, and I sensed another long, silent sigh. What were his real feelings and how were they affecting the answers he gave me? He broke eye contact much later than I thought he would, but as suspected, he did it at all, and with a snippy turn of his head, too. How much of his soul was still intact after learning to teach? He was swimming to the ladder opposite me now. Why do teacher's think they can properly work with students without being real people? He was leaving the pool-

"You're leaving?" I asked with one eyebrow raised as to show him that I've won. I didn't actually win anything, I felt nothing rewarding either, but if he believed there was something left for him to prove as an individual with pride and patience (values I guessed he might align with), I might have a better chance at getting through to him.

"Definitely."

_Oh?_ Well there was one thing I believed he was honest about and that was his temper. Not that he had the shortest temper, but he was "definitely" more volatile when provoked than he would prefer to reveal. Alright, got it. Was he a moody character then? A gloomer in _'s clothing? Fair clothing with a purple wig? I was stretching in the sun now, and upon ascertaining Art's entrance into the pool house, I stripped, dried (with his towel), and started throwing my clothes on like it was the morning after because there were sporty teams in the fields beyond and those students could walk around a corner at any minute to find my naked butt staring at them from over here by a pool I wasn't supposed to be swimming in with a teacher I probably shouldn't be swimming with naked(?). It looked bad. Not that I feared peers checking me out or anything, I just didn't want to get in trouble with-

_Footsteps behind me?_ My ass was just half way in my (uber tight) pants, but I didn't flinch when Art stepped up to my side, still in his swimsuit, and picked his towel up from the ground where I left it. He took one good look at me, junk and all, and then returned to the pool house in silence. His poker face in the moment was impressive, but I heard this strange sound as he disappeared... It was repressed laughter? Being laughed at, even for me, can occasionally be a difficult experience.

By the time I accomplished dressing myself, I was comfortably aware of the limitations of wearing my pants without underwear. Especially_ my _pants_._ There was a faint smile struggling on my lips. I sat and hung my legs in the pool coming upon the sudden urge to just jump back in and take back the discomfort I previously inflicted on myself. I was thinking these thoughts while my eyes blinked listlessly at the school grounds beyond me. Movement drew my eye to a nearby tool shed where I spotted a thoroughly suspicious person clad in grey escaping toward the school from which they most likely came.

"You're still here?" I jumped at Art's sudden arrival. "Do you need me to take you home?"

I resisted the urge to joke. "Tell me, who am I supposed to think you are?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you seriously planning on communicating with your students this way? I have only known you a day and I can tell you're not being real with me! Do you think creating unrealistic ideals for your students will make their lives easier? People learn from people. The experience of living is more valuable than the kind of living, you know?"

* * *

**Chap 1 finito.**


	2. Pt II

**Starts from Art's perspective. I will be changing perspectives here and there. I'm publishing these first chaps kinda fast rn since I've been writing this for a while, but I am really a slow writer. The stuff comes in spurts, really. Also this chap should be p funny... I laughed at least.**

* * *

I woke up at 5:00 this morning. I got up at the third alarm and took a shower. I sort of brushed my teeth while I dried my hair. I was very hungry because I fell asleep without eating dinner the previous night. I rushed to the kitchen in my towel and started breakfast. I felt light-headed so I gulped down a few cups of water before setting the pan on low and running to my room to dress. I took my bag into the kitchen, turned off the pan, and proceeded to pack my breakfast and my lunch. It was still cold outside when I locked the door and started walking to the bus stop. The bus was packed when I got on and I stood next to a guy who smelled terribly of booze. He almost knocked me over when the bus turned. I had to show him the support bar. By the time I got to the school building, I was ten minutes early and 520 $ away from a car of my own. I count everyday. Arrive at work on time and it's added.

I sat down at my desk and barely situated myself before Dre Clementine (or something of that variation) approached me on schedule and started making conversation with me over something. It was always _"Hi, how are you? Good day so far?"_ What does he think happens between bed and work that is even worth mentioning, not to mention "good"? He was talking about some sports game he watched on the telly (_something about a world cup?_) and I smiled and nodded along but I didn't actually relate but that probably didn't matter since he was deep into his story and probably having a better time doing so than I would ever have listening. Once he finished he asked for my two cents on life and we made small-talk for a few minutes before May Souders (a lit teacher) walked past and threw a scowl at Clementine._ He really should be doing something more productive._ He was always talking about something and it had become apparent that she wasn't the talkative type. Needless to say, they didn't get along.

* * *

I had been hacking away at my work for hours when I decided I needed to pee. I didn't waste my time, dropping what was in front of me to head to the bathroom. When I peed I was halfway through relief when my phone rang. I almost dropped what I was doing when it happened, but I survived and finished my business in time to quiet the incessant ringing. "Hello, Art speaking."

"Art, bad time?" _Oh it's her!_ Bethany was her name, and she was my brother's wife. We were very close, but it was always odd talking to her. Probably because the link between us, my brother, was gone.

"Bethany! " I put in effort to sound pleased. "Are you well?"

* * *

We had been conversing for a while before I realized I was on the phone in the bathroom on the clock. I heard someone coming so I rushed to conclude our conversation. By the time I hung up, the other bathroom-goer had left the stall. He was still washing his hands but I figured I'd risk being seen as the one having a bathroom conversation. To my surprise, it wasn't a teacher but someone who didn't work for the school -or... a student?

* * *

This guy across from me, Nice... I was trying to take in what he was saying, but it was difficult because he was criticizing me in an interesting way that left my mind busy and unable to respond. I got his point, but who crowned him a king with the right to judge others based on how open/honest they choose to be with others? Especially him in particular, who had been apparently analyzing me all day and making me uncomfortable in what I guessed were the most effective ways he could. Now I did have my intellectual and contemplative capacities, but did the topic have be to me having inappropriate relations with students or me doing a bad job connecting to students or anything involving criticizing me out of the blue? Didn't I have enough to think about already? The busy work of my job already burned me out, not to mention I was tight on money and trying to help a single mom make ends meet in the absence of my brother. Sure I wasn't being open. But Nice was also a questionable kid and I definitely didn't trust him. I might have also been guilty of simplifying my self talk in the interest of letting myself rest. Still, I wasn't like a lost, dark soul, taking up a teaching job while hiding my true intentions. Something told me he was fucking with me but a part of me also wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. In the end I had answered as though I thought he was full of shit. Maybe that's why he broke out the student-teacher communication gospel. I know I should probably be a better person before being a teacher, but nobody's perfect. So I figured I'd work it out as best as I could.

So why then did I need elitists like him barking up my ass like they had something grand to teach me? Well that kind of stuff happens to people like me who would naturally like to avoid such situations._ Somehow naturally..._

I suddenly felt like I had been silent for too long, I didn't want him to think that he shocked me with his profundity so I shook my head and said, "Listen, if you want to discuss these kinds of things with me, we can, but not now. Believe if or not, I've just had a long day so I probably won't have the right answers for you. And the questions you're asking involve self-reflection, maybe of the sort I haven't recently done..." I wasn't sure how to conclude such an answer.

I looked him in the face to see him looking back with one raised eyebrow and a hand on his hip.

"So you admit you haven't considered it." Nice dropped his hand from his hip and gave a little smile that admittedly ticked me off. "I accept that. So do you think you'll feel _well enough_ to discuss this anytime soon?" This 'Nice' guy really wasn't nice at all.

"Why would I have to discuss anything with you?" I didn't try but I accidentally snapped at him.

"Hmm." He looked genuinely thoughtful, scratching unpleasantly at some odd bandages on his cheek. "I guess you're right. Sorry, Art."

"Please. _Mr. Hatfield._"

"Well, Mr. Hatfield, since this engagement may have unfortunately disturbed you, I will take my presence elsewhere. I wish you luck though, with your new job and all, and I hope your future students don't affect you the way that I did! Later!"

He left the pool area before I could say anything.

* * *

**Nice's cell phone rings, ringtone is Led Zeppelin**

"Hey."

"Nice, hi. I was just at the shop and I was wondering if you wanted to buy."

"Course." _Yeah... that sounded right._

"Great. You can come over in 20."

* * *

I got to Murasaki's house 15 minutes later and let myself in. His place smelled smoky. Probably a mix of incense, weed, and... food? I ventured into the kitchen to find Murasaki eating at a crowded little table cluttered with old dishes and plastic cups.

"You look like you've been having fun," I grinned at him and took a seat. "Have any extra?" I gestured toward his plate.

"Sorry, I'm done now," He managed to reply through a large last bite.

"Really..." I sighed as I leaned back and looked away. " It was probably burned anyway."

He washed his dish. "It was a good scene last night. You should have come! I even invited you three weeks in advance."

"Sorry I got distracted last night. Hajime and I had been hanging out and by the time I realized your party was a thing we had started a movie marathon with popcorn and everything. I had a good time just like that!"

He had rolled his eyes halfway through my story and pretended to ignore me, but by the time I was finished talking he let out a sigh of exasperation as if he had been listening.

"You... don't even keep a calendar, do you?" I held his gaze and yawned in response.

"Can I get that stuff then?" I stood up. "I have 50 today."

"Sure you do."

"I'll get you ten later, but for now could I have the 60's worth?" I think I charmed him with my bright smile because despite his annoyance he reached into his bag and tossed me a baggy of the usual size. I stopped to pat him on the back as I headed towards the door.

"Thanks, Murasaki, you're not a bad guy most of the time."

"You're just buying and going? Do you actually plan on hanging out with me this summer?"

"Shh, I have to work at 6 so I just can't stay tonight. We'll do it real soon, kay? And then I'll let you meet my new friend, too!"

"Eh? I don't want to meet any more of your friends..."

_Whatever, Murasaki._ I swear he's just too tsundere to mean what he says.

I got high before work. That always made it more fun. I bussed tables at Mugi's Bar & Grill. It was boring as hell but it helped pay the bills.

The night was pretty slow... I cleared dishes and wiped tables, all the while overhearing the TVs above the bar divulge the day's news in refined increments. By the time the kitchen was closed I was still energetic thanks to my dead shift.

After clocking out, I realized how hungry I was, so I skipped changing and headed across the street thinking of the Chinese restaurant I frequented. When I reached the door I couldn't open it and with a glance at the time I remembered it was "11:17" meaning I was 17 minutes short of Chinese food. I could still see the chefs in there cleaning up, and I winced at the idea of their proximity to my empty stomach. Most of the places open nearby were pretty expensive, but I figured there was a cheap appetizer that could satisfy me.

I walked into this place called Mullenari's. It served Mediterranean cuisine. I was just "waiting to be seated," loosening my suspenders, watching waitresses zip by with full trays and short skirts... How did I never discover that this establishment had waitresses in skirts? I was thinking to myself about my incredible luck when I slowly recognized that the dapper host approaching me was Mr. Art Hatfield.

"Hello, welcome to Mullenari's." His eyebrows raised as he smiled and I could sense a sudden tension as he removed a menu from behind the podium. "_Just one_ tonight?"

"Sure." _Wasn't that obvious?_ I felt odd so I scratched at my cheek. He led me to a booth and set down a menu. I reached for it but he caught my hand, lightly squeezing it.

"How did you find this place?" He was feigning curiosity and I guessed that he was afraid I came here on purpose like some stalker.

"Trust me, I didn't expect to see your pretty face here." He released my hand immediately.

"And what can I start you off with?" His voice was soft again, and his smile returned.

"Black tea sounds nice." I replied from behind my menu.

"Certainly." He walked off faster than a host probably should.

I was starting to wonder if I was still hungry as I flipped through the menu repeatedly. Art had caught me off guard and I was extremely distracted by his presence. Momentarily I was confused, but when my waitress stepped up and introduced herself my mind happily bounced back to me.

My eyes fell from her large brown eyes to her plump chest and then down to her bare, curvacious legs. No doubt her job hired people based on looks. Everyone I had seen so far in uniform was a knock-out. The servers were even allowed to wear lipstick! She asked me if I was ready to order. Across the room I saw Art approaching with a cup and a teapot. I felt uneasy again so I glanced once more at the menu and dropped my finger any old place, reading the results.

"Southwestern Veggie Burger, I'd like that please." I flashed a small smile as she took down my order.

Art stepped up beside her and set down the tea stuffs. He made eye contact with me for a moment before my server (who introduced herself as "Deb") touched him on the shoulder. I watched his eyes shift toward her as she moved closer and spoke quickly into his ear. The only part I heard was "table six" but Art replied so gracefully (_"Of course, leave it to me"_) that I suddenly felt suspicious of his intentions. His smile must have pleased her because after confirming my order she trotted off with an even bigger smile on her face. Art poured my tea and I stared at him incredulously.

"Are you in it to win it around here?" I raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the attractive ladies serving all around us.

Immediately the guy made some weird sound in his throat, looking toward me with wide eyes before he just started laughing.

I was only mildly caught off guard, but when I noticed customers looking in our direction I pulled him into the booth and "sh"ed him. This probably reminded him he was on the job because he stopped laughing and turned to me with a trembling smile growing on his lips.

"You're always like this?" He sounded like he was holding his breath _Still holding back laughter? Annoying_.

I didn't know what he meant, so reluctantly... "Like what?"

"Asking others about their love interests, asking people personal questions, asking me uncomfortable questions." His smile grew small and he moved closer to me, pressing a finger into my sternum when he added, "You need to be asking yourself some questions!"

_I did?_ He stood up, cleared his throat, scanned my table and then walked off again. I finished my food without seeing him. I tipped my waitress well. I hung around for a few minutes when I saw a hostess welcoming new customers. I gathered myself and gave the place a once-over, eying up two bussers having a conversation at the bar. Looked promising -I interrupted them with a _"hello, sorry to bother you,"_ and I instantly won their attention. As I glanced at their faces I identified both of them as familiar (one went to my high school a grade or two below me, and the other must have been a graduate I saw in my earlier years). With hope that they remembered me, I continued,

"I'm looking for someone who works here as a host? Art Hatfield? I just saw him earlier..."

"Sorry, I think he's off now," replied the older one with an ardent grin and a gesture behind him, "He might still be in the back."

Surely enough, I moseyed around the building and spotted Mr. Art Hatfield sitting on the back steps smoking a cigarette. What a sight he was, my new sensei.

"You smoke, huh?" It was a comment I had to make as I emerged from the alley.

He didn't even turn his head, but his eyes slid toward me and he rose to his feet. He continued down the steps and right past me without even acknowledging me. _Maybe the comment didn't help._ I made an effort to catch up to him.

"Excuse me sir, but could I bum one?" I nodded toward his cigarette.

"_Ha?_ How old are you?" His eyes didn't deviate from the dim alley before him.

"I'm 18 in May." _He isn't serious._

"You say that like it's not July." He handed me a cigarette anyway, but I didn't expect him to look at me with... a smile? _So I'm still not certain that this guy hates me?_

I reached in my pocket for a lighter but before I found one he offered me a lighter that spelled "GOAL" down the side-I turned it in my hand as I lit my cig and saw footballs on the opposite side.

I seized my chance.

"Huh? Do you like football or something?" I waved the lighter.

"A friend gave it to me." He opened his hand and I accordingly placed the lighter in his palm. Our walking reached an even pace in the exchange and my heart almost stopped when we both took a drag of our cigs at the same time. I had to stop walking in order to suppress a chuckle. This guy seemed kinda serious so I didn't want to lose his trust by laughing at something weird.

At last, it didn't work 'cause I blurted out something that sounded like "Guhuhu". I covered up with an excuse. "Your friend then, must really like football... to-_baha aha_-get a lighter that says-_aha_, _ahem_-'GOAL' on it, right?"

Art looked amused by my behavior alone so I relaxed a little.

"I don't really know if she likes football, actually. I never really thought about it." His smile made me feel good.

_Never thought about it? A lighter like that? Really now._ "Mm."

"Hey, Nice." He's looking down now. "Are you heading home soon?"

_Sigh._ "Are you?"

"Probably. And you should too. You have summer school tomorrow, so you should rest up."

"I will. But if you're heading home, I could come with you, then you can give me a proper answer, right?"

"An answer? I thought I told you I would need time to think about it!"

"You still have time!" I threw an arm around him. "You can think on the way there."

He didn't answer for a long time and he nudged my arm from his shoulder but we walked and walked until we ended up at a small apartment building. We went in and took an elevator to the third floor in persistent silence. A few steps down the hallway he pulled out a key and unlocked the door before us.

* * *

**...**


	3. Pt III

**Fun fact: I'm writing this fic for my sister. It started out as a joke and ended up like this. Oops. I also change tenses because I'm avant-garde.  
**

* * *

"Welcome." Art had only said it under his breath when we entered but it meant a lot to me for some reason.

I shut the door behind me and then took off my shoes (because he did). The first thing I noticed when I took a look around was the amount of books he had lining the walls of what I guessed was his living room. I was impressed when I noticed the place had wood floors, too. I could tell he kept it pretty neat, and it had a pleasant atmosphere.

"You have a nice crib here... You can pay this with a teacher's salary?"

"Yeah. Because it's small." He dropped himself on a couch and rolled onto his side as if it was a habit.

"Oh, can I take a look around?"

Art gave a small yawn and then pushed himself into a sitting position. When I realized that he looked more tired than myself, I revised my remark. "Sorry you don't have to show me around if you don't want. You look tired."

"I am." He rose to his feet anyway. "That's the kitchen." He pointed across the room to the kitchen (visible and open from where we were). Then he walked down the hall so I tiptoed after him. There were only two doors, one of which he introduced as the bathroom, the other which he named "my room." His expression changed as he turned to me. "Didn't we agree I didn't owe you an answer anyway?"

Oh that. I forgot he yelled at me back there. "Well you sounded really defensive. I figured if you didn't see me as a threat you wouldn't mind talking to me."

I think he looked surprised. "Talking to you? Aren't I talking to you now?" He walked past me as he was talking and entered the kitchen.

"What? Then I phrased that wrong. I want to communicate with you! Talking isn't the same thing!" I felt like a light bulb had gone on in my head at that moment.

He was rummaging through a cabinet when he removed a bottle of some type of liquor. "You don't even know me." He said this in a much softer tone than he was previously using.

"But I want to." I said it too fast. I suddenly felt embarrassed. "Because you are..." Think, Nice, think. "A teacher who will influence the growth of my generation." Yes, I could look him in the eye now.

"..." He opened his mouth, looked at me, looked down, closed his mouth, and opened the bottle.

"What's that?" I moved in to get a closer look. "Spiced rum? Can I have some?"

"I'm keeping my job, thanks." Art proceeded to remove a shot glass from the cabinet and place it with a *clink* onto the granite counter.

"No way, if you really meant that you wouldn't have let me in! You know, I won't tell anyone a thing about this. I promise. I'm not the kind of person who rats people out, so..."

He was looking down. "I... know that." Then he looked me in the eye, "But I still have responsibilities knowing you're a student, whether or not my job's involved."

"Then forget I'm a student!" I was really worked up about this issue. "I'm about to graduate anyway, so just treat me like a person. Isn't age and status just a societal construct? You don't know me well enough to be concerned about whether or not what I do is inappropriate." I took in a sharp breath because I was talking too fast.

"I agree with you, Nice," He hesitantly removed a second shot glass from the cabinet. "I really do, but does that change the consequences which the world will impose upon us? I don't think so. There are ideals and there is context. It's not wise to deny your context." He filled both shot glasses. "I guess the best you can do when you defy society is... learn to keep secrets." _He actually slid a shot glass toward me._ "So how do I know you have mastered secrecy?"

How strange Art really was started to sink in. "I'm gonna say that's a secret."

I think he glared at me a little, but then he raised his shot glass. "Would you like to toast?"

"Sure." I lifted my glass. "What shall we toast to?"

"Anything... Maybe health?" He was smiling again.

"Ok, health. To health!" We tapped our glasses and tossed 'em down.

* * *

"Wha? Again?!" Mr. Art Hatfield, with his pretty eyes narrowed, threw his playing cards down on the bed. I won Go Fish, again.

"That's what I said when, when you beat me at Uno! Ha! Hahahahahahaha!" I was loud and proud and an hour into a wasted frenzy after killing 5 shots in a row with Art. He really wasn't a strict host at all! And I had been worried he would tease me with a shot or two and then cut me off. Well, at least he only took 4 shots himself. Way to be a star student, Art-kun. At the moment I remember that he had shut me up in his room because _"there are neighbors on the other side of the kitchen wall"_ and I'm apparently _"too loud"_. Fine. But he was burning Nag Champa in his room and his bed was soft and it was making me feel too connected to my sensual side like I wanted to sip spiced chai and, and play textural instrumental music and gaze at the moon and roll in velvet and... and taste and touch and touch and touch Art's hair, maybe, maybe feel his breath on my breath or hear his voice... in my ear...? God, the thing that's fucking me up is that sometimes my lack of sobriety, no, sometimes close proximity... Well basically anytime I'm having... I guess I get horny as much as any other person, probably, but if it was happening now does that mean... what does that mean? Art may be able to see me as a person but if he knew what I was feeling I'm 98% sure he'd kick me out the door. I'm used to ignoring urges like this but I'll tell you being this drunk only enhances my impulsive nature.

"Nice-kuun." Sometime earlier we started calling each other kun (and he let me call him Art.) "You... got quiet." He moved his face closer to mine and flicked me lightly on the forehead. His cheeks were actually dusted pink? Were mine?

"Yeah uh," I leaned over to check my reflection in Art's dresser mirror. Fuck, my cheeks were flushed! I blame alcohol. "Whad'you wanna do now?"

"Aah..!" He rolled off the bed. I hung my head over the side to check if he was okay. He gave a small giggle and sat up, saying, "Don't worry, I did it on purpose." _What._ Then he was stretching as he began to unbutton his shirt. _Huh?_ "I can't believe I'm still wearing my uniform!" _Same though._ He really fumbled with the buttons and it started to drive me nuts. I chose to voice my pain.

"Really? Have buttons always been a problem for you?" I gave a cackle but I think he was too flustered battling his shirt to care. I rolled around a bit. "Hey, Art-kun."

"What is it?" He finally removed his shirt and I wasn't sure I could handle it. You know, it could be awkward?

"Can I change too?" I guess I didn't mind awkward. I smelled like alcohol and bar food probably. Wow okay. "Okay" I said it randomly because I was apparently that trashed.

Art was now undoing his belt. "That's"... He stood up a little straighter. "I have, oh, sweatpants in... that drawer." He lifted a finger in the proper direction. "And a t-shirt in the one above. Use the bathroom, please."

"Thanks, bro." I was starting to understand. I was the worst when I was wasted. This was why when I got wasted at parties I couldn't pick up the ladies. I checked the drawers and found an assortment of sweatpants and t-shirts, as Art foretold. I snatched up whatever and scurried to the bathroom, very excited to deal with myself alone for a bit.

Then I'm in the bathroom and it's all white and bright and I'm dazed for a solid minute before I find myself peeing in the toilet. Peeing. I am at least sober enough to aim straight. I have a hunch that my whole day has amounted to this moment, and I have experienced it just for this. I almost trip as I pull on the sweats but the shirt comes much easier. It fits me snugly and it's kind of annoying but whatever. I look in the mirror and my face stares back at me crystal clear. I'm not used to it because I would have to clean my bathroom mirror regularly in order to maintain this kind of shine. I am leaning in toward the mirror to more closely examine myself when a knock on the door makes me jump, causing me to knock my face hard against the mirror. I hear Art's voice ask "You're okay in there, right?" at the same time that I'm noticing dark spots appearing in the sink before my eyes. It's...

"Nice?" I hear Art knocking at the door again. _Shit,_ _I need to answer._

"U-uh, yeh?" _Shit I mean,_ "I'm swag." Blood is running down my face. _Toilet paper!_

"You suuure?" He doesn't believe me. I don't believe me. I start shoving paper up my nose. There's a lot of blood on my face now so I don't even know which nostril is bleeding.

"Ehhh ehyeah" My voice comes off high pitched and nasal-y now, but he probably doesn't notice?

"Okay but I actually need to use that room so can you hurry up?" I hear the door handle and then he peeks in like he owns the damn place. Fuck.

"Oh!" The look on his face is like he's scared or trapped or something and I want to tell him it's not as bad as it looks and I'm fine but then he's gone and I think he ran away? I'm really confused but then I see that the toilet paper is soaked through with blood and I remove it forgetting how much my nose is bleeding and I cringe when I see red droplets on my clean white tee. I grab for more toilet paper but then Art runs in with a box of tissues and paper towels and he instructs me to _"sit down."_

I don't need babied so I object. "On the floor?"

He must not feel like putting up with my shit because he quickly slams down the lid of the toilet and guides me to sit down. I settle for this seat so he continues his plan by standing over me and taking my hand with a _"hold still"_, disposing of my unsuccessful wad of bloody toilet paper and dabbing at my face with a paper towel. He even holds my chin gently while he does it like I'm some snot-nosed brat but I'm ok with it since he's so determined about it. Then he places a folded tissue against the proper nostril and instructs me to pinch my nose _"until the bleeding stops."_ _Wait... I just got to feel his breath on mine._

"How do I dow whed the bleedig stops?" There, I can make conversation?

"Oh Nice-kun," He smiles. "You can talk normally now. The blood should stop running down your throat." Shit how did he know that had happened when I didn't even realize why I closed my nasal passages? "Just hold it tight for now and I'll let you know when you can chuck it. Do you feel okay? What even-" he cleared his throat "mhmm-happened?"

_Should I tell him? What was I doing when it happened?_ I realize that the whole situation has sobered me out a lot and as I reflect on the damage that 5 shots can really do _(How was I even acting when I was that drunk?_). I am both embarrassed and relieved now that I'm more sober.

I am sitting, thinking about how I'm more sober, when I feel a tap on my shoulder and I look up right into Art's face and-

"Nice...kun?" He places a hand on my forehead now, pushing his fingers into my hair in order to remove it from my face.

A sharp intake of air on my part makes him look worried but he has the wrong idea. "I'm fine!" I say that too loudly too and I'm wondering if I'm still tipsy or if I'm just an immensely clumsy and obnoxious person. I must be tipsy then, huh? "Art-kun," I assume my most sincere expression. "Thank you a lot. You're a really nice guy, aren't you?"

We stare straight at each other when I realize how tense he looks and I feel something off about the relation between his calm expression and his body's atmosphere. I try a little harder. "Are you okay, Art-kun?" I stand up without thinking and he takes a step back. _Dammit._

He turns his face, but I catch a glimpse of an expression that makes my heart beat faster and I am starting to form internal convictions about him. "You shouldn't stand yet with that nose." _Oh._ I'm so close to him and it dawns on me that I would have bumped him if he hadn't stepped back.

"So can I go into your room like this?" I feel a little bloody, yanno, in comparison with Art's tidy little room.

"Don't worry about it. But, uh, you can change your shirt if you want." He takes a step to the side now and gestures toward the door.

"Sure, thanks."

I sort of skulk into the room feeling guilty that I had stained his shirt but to my surprise when returns to the room he says, "Hey, sorry about all this. I shouldn't have poured that many shots. I guess that's why I shouldn't get drunk with no one sober around. Especially..." He trails off and I see that damned guilt on his face.

I'm annoyed so I really want to ask him to finish his thought but instead I channel my agitation into my physical occupation at the moment meaning I take off my shirt really quickly once he has spoken as if in reply. In the process of taking it off I had to remove the tissue from my nose and with a pause I realize it's not bleeding anymore. _Yes!_ I toss the wad into a trash can and flop down on the bed. I see Art collect the shirt I just dropped on the floor. He takes it out of the room and I hear running water and then he returns without it.

"Why don't you finish what you were saying." I am slightly grumpy and certainly still tipsy. I watch him open his drawer and remove a black shirt. Then he sits on the bed gently about a foot from my body and sets one folded shirt on my chest. He's moving delicately and, well... even having had 4 shots earlier... and I wonder if he's always like this or if he is being careful because... he's worried about me? _Shit, did I put myself in that position?_

"Nice..." I turn toward him and he rolls over onto his side (in the same fashion as he had done earlier on the couch) to face me too. "I do feel bad about your age and your status. Aren't they societal constructs because they've often held true?" He's asking me seriously and apparently trusting me with an answer? He even sounds a little saddened and it really makes me feel some intense sort of way.

"Sure but that's a half-assed reason to believe anything isn't it? Aren't all truths rivaled with an opposite result given a less "ordinary" context? And doesn't pushing standards nearly diminish the results of... No wait. The thing is, pushing standards probably DOESN'T diminish the results that aren't ordinary. Norms and societal expectations only isolate and shame differences that may not be all that bad. For instance... how old are you?"

"22." He's still watching me and listening carefully. It actually makes me nervous so I make this weird face, probably a smile.

"Shit, really? So we're, like, 5 years apart?" _Wait, Nice, stay on topic._

"Yeah well..." He visibly blushes and I'm starting to worry I'll do the same.

"See... for instance, I think I'm pretty mature. I would say I should be able to hold a candle to you as far as intellectual and practical competency, but..." Breathe. "But in a conversation with an employer, I might be assumed less responsible and or capable because it is technically more likely, based on the amount of years you've lived, that you have gathered more "valuable experience" than I have which could prove useful for said job. I know resume's come into it but those kind of judgments are made all the time without people questioning them. A lot of old folks I know, in fact, will claim that nothing makes up for the experience of age. Maybe that works for counting your wrinkles and getting up on time and building habits but other than a few personal things, for all we really know, you could have spent your life believing everything you were told and following basics that only contributed to your worth to society instead of thinking for yourself and really figuring out what your life means to you. And that's most important, isn't it? Why do other people think they can decide our values for us anyway? That's how I think about it at least. Pursuing and encouraging false standards... it only seems to limit people." We had been making direct eye contact during most of my explanation and I am trying to breathe right and subdue the pounding on my chest. He smiles and looks to the side and takes a deep, slow breath and I try to match his breathing and I'm hoping I have kept myself cool and composed like I usually manage to, but I never can observe myself accurately when I drink. I don't know if Art's really worked up or what 'cause his face is definitely red now and he looks happy but he rolls over onto his stomach and then I hear his muffled voice saying,

"Thank you. Thank you so much Nice!" I can tell he yelled it 'cause I feel the vibrations of his voice through the pillow which is against my shoulder and I don't know why he's thanking me but I start to feel my heart really pound and my chest tighten and I know I can't lay next to him like this for long. I hear his voice again, but very softly this time. "You voiced my feelings. I've never... heard someone say it that way before. You..." He lets out a quick sigh. "Thank you for being so..." He turns back to me again and he's still smiling. "Thank you for communicating so openly." He's looking down though and it makes me want to gain his attention more properly. He opens his mouth again and I can't blink. "I... want to be an open person who can teach students the right way. I want to help your generation. But if your classmates are like you, I think it will have to be a learning experience for all. I'm no sage. Teachers... I think they have as much to learn as students. It's part of why I wanted to be a teacher... because the interaction between student and teacher is fulfilling for both... and precious." His expression is humble and caring like where did this guy come from.

"Art..." I kind of can't call him 'kun' now. He looks at me, unsteadily as if it's difficult or embarrassing, and his vulnerability is what's truly "precious" here. "Art... Thank you... for everything. I'm... glad I could come over." Now we're both embarrassing.

"No I am!" Art's very insistent. He takes my hand and cups it between his own. "I am so grateful to have met you."

I'm probably melting somewhere in my core and I think I hear the blood rushing in my ears and I'm so attracted to him for some reason that the pressure of his hands sends my mind places it probably shouldn't go. And yet... I want to be honest now that he's made me feel all noble and I can't exactly tell what he's thinking but maybe he wouldn't mind just... a little...

My mouth just fucking runs without me. "A-Art, can..." I turn onto my side to face him completely and I feel the shirt he placed on my chest (which had naturally slipped my mind) slide onto the bed. For a second I pause, but then I forget why. "Can I kiss you?"


	4. Pt IV

**Well this chap took a while. I didn't write for almost a month! Warning for the sexual content- if you don't want to read it you can skip to the second break/line/divider. Don't have much to say at this point but ima warn peeps not to drink around those you don't know/trust! Don't be like these characters lol. Stay safe.  
**

* * *

My own words slammed me in the head the instant they left my mouth, but Art just draws an unsteady breath and gives one nod as he narrows his eyes and makes this expression and I kind of stare at him and take in the way it all feels, not quite believing it's true.

"Are you... sure?" I'm wondering if I can actually do it. Get myself to do it.

"Tch," His face grows a darker shade. "Do I need to answer twice?" He has this little smile on his face now and I feel my stomach erupt with a pang of exhilaration.

"Y-You do! My friend Hajime took me to these classes about consent because she said it was really important. She wouldn't make that stuff up-" Why do I talk this much. No. I have to talk about it!

"Come here," he says and thoughtlessly I move closer when he puts a hand on my cheek and then slides it into my hair and his face is so close when I find my lips against his and... then I feel my reflexes kicking in and I push my lips into his, melting internally from the warm contact of our lips. We don't really stop kissing, and eventually our tongues enter each other's mouths and my head is spinning as if I'm losing blood from my brain which I probably am but at least it isn't coming out of my nose. Shit at least I hope that doesn't happen. I am kissing and sucking at his hot mouth until I can no longer go without air and I pull away just to hear myself breathing harder than I should have been.

He was smiling at me and breathing just as heavily as me when he said, "You know you can breathe through your nose right?" _Fuck, what was this, some shoujo manga about someone's 'first time'?_ But Art is tucking his hair behind his ear and it looks so soft and it's actually this beautiful light lilac color and his bangs are in disarray and he must belong in a shoujo manga.

"I know!" I think Art likes to be the know-it-all. I can tell. "Not as easy as it sounds though." I sit up a little and I reach for him at the same time he reaches for me. He places a hand on my neck and I lean over him and kiss him first on the forehead, then on the cheek, and then he turns his face impatiently toward me and brushes his lips against mine, licking his own as if in anticipation so I give him all these small wet kisses until he reaches up and gently pushes my head down and my tongue accordingly enters his mouth and he tastes so good I feel like he's quenching my thirst and I can't stop kissing him for a solid five minutes while we keep moving closer to each other. Every time I brush against him he's so warm and all of his movements are so careful and delicate and I-I feel so many things that I'm clawing at the sheets half the time just to restrain myself. Then he's sucking at my bottom lip and kissing my top lip and when he places a kiss softly against my neck I feel my whole body nearly convulse with the pleasure and tension building up inside of me.

"Art." I have to do something. I'm growing erect and these sweatpants aren't doing a good job of keeping that on the down low.

I press his shoulders into the soft bed and stare at him in the silence of our breathing. "I..." His shirt is thin and I can see his nipples protruding through the fabric on his rising and falling chest but... am I too easily turned on? "I think I..." He holds my gaze patiently but his lips are still parted and I think its desire that shows on his face so "want..." My hands slide down his smooth, firm arms and I feel him tense his muscles under my touch. Then he averts his eyes and I'm losing certainty about how he feels.

"_What?_" He almost whispers his words, placing his hands on my arms and squeezing them, re-establishing eye contact with me.

From where I sit beside him, I can't help but to drape my upper body over him and immerse myself in his scent, pressing my face into his neck and allowing my mouth to relish his flesh.

"Mm!" Art lets out this sound that only partially satisfies my longing but now his hands find my shoulders and as they're traveling down my bare chest, his every finger is rubbing heat into my body. My mouth reacts to his touch by sucking at his jaw while my hands push into the bed on either side of him. The skin on this guy's neck is so soft and his apparent sensitivity encourages me to keep kissing and sucking at every new spot that makes him gasp or jolt or dig his fingers into me so I note that I'd like to explore his body. When my lips find his collar bone I hear his breath in my ear and it's so sultry that I wonder if I've managed to excite him... the way I am excited. As I'm sucking lightly at his skin, I realize I can leave him hickeys and therefore waste no time latching on with more intention until one of his finger slips over my left nipple and I gasp audibly. I never felt anything like that before, and now I'm sure I'm fully aroused and I want to move my legs because I've been sitting on them this whole time and they're falling asleep.

I roll over beside Art to lie on my back and then I hear him use my name.

"Nice?" He shifts his body and I feel his warmth on my arm and his gaze on my face so I turn to face him. He's completely flushed. Good, me too.

"Yes?" Speaking feels foreign to me atm.

"You," I see his eyes flash up and down my body and he's definitely noticed that I'm hard. "How do you... feel?" Hey, that sounds like concern in his voice.

'_Feel' he asks? What am I... how do I answer that?!_ "Uh, what do you mean exactly? I mean... what do you think?"

His expression changes to one of embarrassment and he re-positions himself, moving away from me and focusing on the ceiling. "I mean... are you still drunk?"

_Oh... Am I? If there is any way I "feel" right now, it's horny... or it's... engulfed. Do I still feel drunk?_ "Ah.. I don't know. I mean I think I'm still buzzed but..." _If I stood up, would I sway like before?_ "What... time is it?"

"That's..." Art slowly pushes himself up on all fours and crawls over me, leaning over the side of the bed to check a clock that was apparently on the floor to the right of me. I observe that he's excited too as he hovers over me and I have to bite down pretty hard to keep my cool. "Shi-t!" his exclamation makes me jump. "It's almost 4 in the morning..." He sounds incredulous as he crawls back and reunites with the comfort of his bed.

"Hmm..." I stretch and tuck an arm underneath him, wrapping my fingers firmly around his shoulder and pulling him closer to my side. "I'm sorry about that. It's my fault for imposing."

Art looks at me sideways and I see him clench his jaw and flare his nostrils and then he looks away and sort of mutters "Sorry? Don't be." Then he rests his head in the crook of my neck, and his right hand finds its way under my torso while he places his left onto my lower abdomen, slowly moving it downward. I'm suddenly hit with desire and, impulsively, I tug at his shirt, pulling it toward me because he probably shouldn't wear a shirt if I'm shirtless.

"Wanna strip?" I'm grinning as I ask. I note the *swish* of Art's hair as he jerks his head toward me with eyebrows raised. Then, with a yawn, he stretches his long body and bats his eyelashes.

"But I'm so tired..." Stretching himself out like that only makes his erection more visible. "So maybe you should do it for me... undress me... that is..."

My heart beat accelerates. I hope Art knows how his words are affecting me because if I undress him right now I'll only have one thing on my mind. "C-can I?" My eyes dance over his seductive body from his lithe arms to his wrinkled shirt exposing his pale midriff to the newly developed hickeys on his neck and collarbone. I never thought I'd be this turned on by a guy...

"Well," he runs his fingers through his hair as if displaying how he's contemplating my question. "You first. Then you can worry about me."

I have no hesitation left in my body at this point so I throw my legs over the side of the bed and remove my remaining garments. Oh yeah... I guess I haven't been this hard in a while. I'm not used to seeing my body like this.

"Art, sit up." I crawl over to him and I detect his eyes on my body while his lips are shut tightly and he sits in front of me with his hands on his knees. I can't help but to lean in and kiss him, seeing him like that and all, and he kisses me back with provoking delicacy so I move his hands aside and seize his waist, dragging the cloth of his shirt upward until my thumbs slip over his stiff nipples. He gasps and our lips part. I pull my face away and instruct him "lift your arms" and I yank the shirt off for good, tossing it across the room because I'm just not about that.

I'm about to go for his pants when Art places his hands on my thighs and leans in to kiss me with such force that I fall back onto my elbows. His hands slowly inch up my thighs while he prolongs our kiss and I wonder if one can die of lust. I have to disconnect our mouths to take a breath again and I see him smirk. He flops down in the opposite direction of his pillow and locks eyes with me, commenting,  
"Look at you. You're so excited." I feel my face get hotter. "Won't you finish undressing me?" He eyebrows dance up and down a few times like this is funny.

I comply without a word, tugging his pants down, freeing his ankles, tossing them aside. I do the same with his underwear, but this time I'm left to witness his entire naked body and he's basically a model. I notice myself gawking and so does he. I'm sure I've lived years storing confidence in preparation for moments like these. I blink to clear my mind and then gather myself up, reclining onto my side about a foot away from Art's bare body. I take a hesitant breath in preparation to speak when he beats me to it.

"Nice-kun..." He edges toward me and wraps an index finger in my hair. "I want to... touch you... but..."

First he's addressing me as 'kun' again. Then he finishes his sentence with 'but'? For some reason, everything he does is confusing me. "But?" I raise an eyebrow to distract myself from my own nervousness. Why is he asking me to undress him one moment and then hesitating the next?

"It's -It's not consent if you're drunk." He appears ashamed.

"I'm... probably not 'drunk' at all!" _How do I convince someone like this?_ "I remember being sober around you earlier today and I'm pretty sure I would mess around with someone like you any day... On sight. By principle." I reach in to touch him but he catches my hand in his.

"Hah! And if you're drunk, and I believe you, then I'm a fool." His features are stern, but his hand is so warm.

I force myself out of the bed in a bout of obstinacy. "Look." I grumble as I stand on one foot. To my satisfaction, I maintain my balance beautifully and I can tell Art is withholding his reaction because his expression is rigid and unreadable. "See?" I proceed to walk a pretty straight line across the room. It's admittedly more challenging than I anticipated but I pull it off. "Z, Y, X, W...uh, V, U...T, S-"

"Fine! It's okay -you don't have to continue!" He's covering his eyes with the back of his hand but I sense relief in the smile stretching across his face, and pride wells up within me.

"Then..." My pulse races with my every thought. "You can touch me all you want." I hop onto the bed and roll onto my back in gratitude of the soft surface.

I hear a soft sigh. Then he climbs onto my thighs and when he trails his lips from my shoulder to my jaw, my mind momentarily goes blank. His hand then finds my erection and it's coated in something cool and slippery and as he caresses my entire length my senses erupt and I... Well... this sound I'm not proud of escapes my throat. It feels that good though. In attempt to regain my self-control, I succeed in lifting a hand, weaving it through the silky hair on the back of Art's head, and initiating a sloppy kiss. Instantaneously, he slides his body over mine, and my skin buzzes with the pleasure of friction. As I register the vigor with which he's moving against me, I allow myself to reciprocate his motions by contributing my strength, pressing my free hand into his back and drawing him into me.

Both his hands are digging into my arms and his grip tightens every time he is pleased. We're grinding against one another shameless and sweaty when a slight buck of my hips compels him to dig his nails into me so harshly that I almost whimper. _I could get used to that._ As we manage to detach our mouths I steal a glance at him, taking in his heavy eyelids, his flushed lips, his luminous hair, frizzed by my fingers, the way he's struggling to catch his breath...

He murmurs "God" as he wipes his mouth, dragging himself carelessly from my body and falling into place beside me. "I want..." He gradually loses volume. "too much."

"What was that?" I sit up curiously. His eyes roll up toward me and then he yawns instinctively. _Right. It's late as fuck._

"Hm." He maneuvers toward me, planting his fingers into the tops of my thighs and leaning in to roll his tongue over my right nipple. My breath catches as he goes for the opposite nipple. His tongue lewdly travels my skin, and I perceive that his kisses are south bound as the muscles of my abdomen twitch and tremble under his pervasive heat. When he has passed my naval, he sucks my skin gingerly and at once I am nearly overcome by the throbbing desire inches from his face (_his mouth on my upper body alone was probably enough to make me..._), so I catch his chin and endow him with a grateful kiss to save face.

"Art, I want to... do something for you." I guide him onto his back, adding into his ear, "I'll suck it, if you want." He swallows. "Sound good?"

"If... it's really fine with you. But you definitely shouldn't trouble yourself." I sense a shift in his countenance as he answers in a smooth, low tone.

"Heh." _It's really no trouble._ His wariness is somehow fetching, and I wonder how much of it is forced and/or comes naturally.

I take my time to behold him, sliding my hands up his velvety thighs and bestowing wet and thirsty kisses upon his creamy skin. Every restrained exhalation of his motivates me, and I proceed to lay my kisses higher on his tender inner thighs until a loud "Haa!" assures me that we're making progress. At some point, my teeth graze his skin and my mind is momentarily swamped with vivid scenarios in which teeth could be most effectively utilized. I must have paused because:

"Nn-Nice!" A sharp whisper interrupts my thoughts. "You're... taking forever." With both hands clutching the sheets, and between stammering breaths, too, he informs me of his impatient displeasure. I wonder if that could count as a compliment.

A smile grows on my face as I leave him one last kiss. "Sor-ry." I release his thighs from my grip and look up to see him watching me. We maintain eye contact as I slowly begin to pump his erection in my fist. Seeing him see me while I touch him is too erotic, and I savor the sight as pleasure washes over his features with my every movement. When I run my tongue up his length, he stops breathing altogether. I can breathe easier though, because he doesn't taste bad or anything. I hadn't done this before, but I've received the favor so I know a few things. I run my tongue over the tip before popping the whole thing into my mouth and pushing it into the back of my throat. He's hot, and as I draw back I press my tongue up against his firm flesh. His legs twitch. I repeat the motion once, twice, three times, picking up speed before his voice sounds through his breath. I pause to get some air myself, but with an upward glance, I am again engrossed. Arms tense by his sides, chest heaving, head tilted to one side... Violet eyes drift toward me and freeze when they find mine. A vague feeling prods me to speak, but what to say...

"You good?" That apparently.

At first, he only blinks. Then he hesitates. "Oh, I'm good." I suppose he expects a blank stare and a faint smile to reassure me. With a sudden yawn, he turns his head, and then he's shifting into a sitting position. "Well, actually... we can't take all night-"

"E-even though I barely even started-" I am mumbling when Art just falls into me. I allow him to knock me off balance and I land on the bed behind me as we collapse into each other. His bare skin against mine is sensational and I am tempted to remain still and absorb the pulsating of our chests and the sound of our breathing in unison.

"Nice." Art breaths against my neck and I tense at the sensation.

I tilt my face to meet his eyes and he lifts his head to do the same, but... he appears so unexpectedly shy when we're completely face to face that I find myself utterly disarmed when he kisses me, slowly, deeply, and when our lips detach, he breathes my name again... I can't currently word my feelings so I pour my intentions into another kiss. His mouth is receptive, and as our tongues interact I have the notion that we're exchanging something more than saliva. Something distinct which our muscles cannot restrain.

"Do you..." My lips are freed and Art's fingers tickle my hips. He sits up and straddles me. His heat is directly against mine. An index finger is licked and dragged over the tip of my member. His eyes search mine for approval and I give an upward nod, taking hold of his thighs tightly. I hear him inhale deeply before his hands encircle our erections and... then he's jerking us off... my fingers plunge deeper into his skin... lickerish whimpers electrify my senses... and I remember calling his name shortly before cumming. The rest of the night is a warm haze. I sunk into the bed and he rolled out of it. I stared at the ceiling while water was running in the bathroom. He tossed me a hot washcloth and opened the curtains on the far side of the room, revealing a white, full moon. When he sat back down, he leaned over me and made this curious face before smiling.

"Sorry it's so late. I hope you can stay awake tomorrow." He giggled and then quickly fell silent. "You can stay here tonight. I can sleep on the couch, too."

This time I yawned. "No, you don't have to do that. I can take the couch. I mean, we could share the bed, too... But of course if you don't want to- ahh sorry." I shook my head because it was past my time to be talking.

I didn't see Art's expression but he yawned too and then replied, "Sure... we can share."

* * *

***beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-***

The second time my alarm blares I remember to turn it off. It's 5:10, and I'm not ready to get up. There is a very warm person in my bed, I am naked, and I pray that I can get to work this morning without any taxing confrontations. I slip from the covers carefully so as not to wake the other, locking the bathroom door behind me before I start my shower. My mind is riddled with guilt as I recall the previous night. _I got drunk with a high school student... and then..._

I shut off the water.

As I dry myself before the mirror, my reflection flaunts dark hickeys from just below my jaw down to my collarbone. I want to be ticked off, but it's my karma so I cover up with a turtle neck when I dress. The school is air-conditioned anyway. Once I've had my coffee, I'm almost late so I skip making lunch. Before leaving, I sneak into my room and pluck Nice's pants from the floor, removing his phone and setting an alarm for the appropriate waking time. I know I'm shitty but that's all I can do at the moment.

* * *

Arriving only one minute early to work is unpleasant, but I add my expected earnings to my mental bank account nonetheless.

I'm barely seated when, to no one's surprise, Dre makes his way across the room to lean on my desk, chiming "How are we this morning, good? I'll tell ya, I woke up today and I just wasn't feeling it, you know? It looked gray and I heard it's supposed to rain, but they're still calling for temperatures up to 30 degrees! Now, would you believe that? I had to dress in short sleeves AND bring an umbrella... And I bet it'll be gray and humid. Worst kinds of days, don'cha think?" He pauses to sigh. "Well, you look good anyway, did'ja sleep well?"

He's looking at me curiously now so I guess I have no choice. "Oh, well I didn't get much sleep, but I guess I slept well." I've found that you can be pretty honest with this guy and he'll just go with it.

"Aw, you're not getting sleep, Art? When you're working early mornings like this, sleep's just a must. Don't make it a habit, trust me. You'll start falling asleep before dinner. Hahahaha!"

I don't know how to reply to him, so when my desk phone rings I regard Dre in silence and pick it up gratefully.

"Hello, Art. I'm Deva Liose, the vice principal. I'm sorry this is last minute, but Mr. Tamashiro has urgently requested to take the rest of the week off. I know you are still getting a hang of the procedures around here but he only had one student and I know you've studied Literature in depth as well. Do you think you could adequately take up the job, just temporarily?"

"Ah, Ms. Liose, I may be able to do it, but aren't there more qualified staff to take the job? I just don't want to confuse the student because I'm not familiar with the school's curriculum for this particular course."

"I think you're over-qualified, Art-kun. If someone else were available, I wouldn't have called you." I hear amusement in her voice and I remind myself to calm down. "You'll get a bonus since it's last minute."

"Of course. I'll do it. When should I be ready?"

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hamatora (specifically Nice, Murasaki, Hajime, Art).**


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